


a little softness

by freezerjerky



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Body Worship, Domestic, M/M, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Trans Male Character, Trans Newton Geiszler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 13:12:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19318897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freezerjerky/pseuds/freezerjerky
Summary: Newt’s never believed in concepts like a biological clock and he’s never had that overwhelming natural urge, but Hermann? That’s the way his brain’s wired.And Newt loves him all the more for it, even when he can’t sleep because Hermann’s hands are wandering over his stomach.in which Hermann loves Newt's body in all forms- but especially its current one





	a little softness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skeleton_twins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skeleton_twins/gifts).



> For the lovely Erica.
> 
> This fic is clearly tagged, but I want to make it even more clear as I know pregnancy can be a trigger for many transmasc people- yes, this fic features a trans male character who is pregnant. It does not delve deeply into themes of dysphoria or discontent and is done with the absolute more respect for the varied experiences of people who hold this identity around the experiences of pregnancy. 
> 
> That being said, it features an encounter between two loving partners who made a fully informed decision together to build a family in a particular way, so if that's your thing, go wild.

Hermann loves Newt’s stomach. To be very fair, the enthusiasm is a normal condition, something that’s occurred through the duration of their relationship. It’s never been uncommon for Hermann to spend extensive amounts of time kissing Newt’s stomach, or sucking at his soft skin, or just laying his cheek against his stomach to track the rise and fall of his breathing. Now it’s a different sort of love, a sort of wary and adoring obsession.

Newt’s been comfortable enough with weight gain through the course of his life, he’s fluctuated depending on mood or lifestyle or diet. But this is different. First of all, the weight is very centered in one particular area. Second of all, it has a very specific purpose. It’s the type of change he’s had to do a lot of internal work processing for, he’s thought very intensely on the joys and stresses of it. Partially, his body feels foreign, some wholly new thing to him. But the rest of him feels oddly more in tune with it than ever, like he has to listen to his body in a way he didn’t before. 

Thankfully because of the hormonal changes, and his own normal enthusiasm for Hermann, the newfound interest and love for Newt’s stomach is generally met with an equal level of love. Or at least an equal level of receiving love. Which seems to be working just fine, given that Hermann’s normal rather reserved, somewhat stuffy brain had been replaced with a primordial caveman from the moment Newt first said a sentence that had the words “try” and “baby” in it. Newt’s never believed in concepts like a biological clock and he’s never had that overwhelming natural urge, but Hermann? That’s the way his brain’s wired.

And Newt loves him all the more for it, even when he can’t sleep because Hermann’s hands are wandering over his stomach.

“I think I felt a kick,” Hermann usually says. It rarely actually was, but it was worthwhile to humor him.

“That was me kicking you,” Newt usually jokes back in those moments. His kicks are much sharper, a bit painful, and not at all cute. That’s why he doesn’t kick people.

Tonight, though, Hermann’s not even pretending there’s a sentimental pretense for his groping. It’s groping for the sake of groping.

“Hermann,” Newt half warns. “If you’re going to keep prodding me, I’m gonna need to be getting something out of it.”

“Prodding you?” Hermann responds, feigning innocence. He’s currently all but cupping Newt’s stomach in his hands.

Newt shifts slightly so he’s laying on his back. Moving for him is not quite as easy as it used to be, but he manages well enough. For now.

“Prodding me,” Newt continues, “is how I got into this situation in the first place, so I think I know what I’m talking about.”

Truthfully, it was far more complicated than prodding. It was several appointments with a highly qualified specialist and a series of tests, it was more conversations about dysphoria than Newt thought he was ever going to have again (but which he was very grateful for), it was a few trials and a lot of errors. The prodding was, in truth, only a small part of it. But the prodding was the most fun part and that’s what really counts.

“Do you want me to stop?” Hermann’s batting his lashes as he speaks. He’ll deny it to his death, but he knows how to make himself look exceptionally pretty. Newt loathes that man with all his heart.

Sighing, Newt sits up to turn on the bedside lamp. It’s not even nighttime, Newt had just been hoping to have a nap when Hermann followed him. It’s half pathetic and lovesick and half out of a place of protectiveness. Newt can’t fault Hermann for wanting to be near him as much as possible, and it’s not as though he’s ever overstepping boundaries.

“If you’re not going to let me sleep, the least you could do is go down on me,” Newt says, dismissing Hermann’s attempts at looking cute and innocent and needy.

“The least?”

“Well, that depends entirely on how good you do with the first bit.”

Hermann props himself up on one arm, just enough to lean down and kiss Newt, softly at first. The kisses almost always seem to have a softness to them these days. Newt’s grateful he’s not treated with kid gloves, because that’s the opposite of what he wants, but there’s a quiet reverence to this situation that he finds himself preening under. There’s been a reverence that runs through their life now, an undercurrent that they can’t escape. Despite the stress, despite the bodily discomfort, Newt suspects this will be the calmest time of their life together. Ordinarily, he’d hate the calm, but the limited time span of nine months makes it more appealing.

As he kisses Newt, Hermann’s hand wanders, first skating across his stomach, teasing along the hem of his t-shirt, before it makes contact with his bare skin. Earlier that morning, Hermann had given him a proper rubdown with some lotion and Newt will likely ask for that later, but it’s hardly the time for that now. Instead, he focuses on melting into the kiss and letting someone take care of him.

It’s both ages and no time at all until Hermann’s hand has wandered lower, cupping Newt’s mound for a few moments before dipping between his folds. He teases the pad of his fingers along Newt’s cunt, but doesn’t dare push in yet. No, he’ll tease until he’s satisfied. It isn’t even about getting Newt worked out, Newt suspects, but about his own need to have his fill before he moves on to the next thing. Hermann’s careful, thorough, he always makes sure to account for all of the variables in an encounter. Until he doesn’t, and that’s one of the most beautiful things of all to encounter with the other man.

Impatient, Newt rocks down against his fingers. Hermann’s not easily swayed, though, and instead withdraws his fingers to stroke Newt’s clit. If the chuckle that emits from Hermann’s lips didn’t make it obvious, Newt can feel Hermann’s face twist into a grin when he forces pleased noises out of Newt’s throat. He can be as smug as he likes at this time, in this period of increased sensitivity. There will be payback at the end of this ordeal. To be precise, approximately six weeks of payback. Maybe longer. 

“Herms,” Newt exhales. “I think I had a very specific request for you right now, didn’t I?” Admittedly, Newt does take advantage of being in the state he’s in more often than others would. But he’s uncomfortable, and he’s putting his body through an ordeal, so he deserves some attention.

Hermann pulls away, taking a moment to admire Newt before he shifts on the bed, moving farther down. He helps Newt slip out of his boxers when he's had his fill. Newt’s never had a small stomach, or a small body in anything but height, but he used to be able to watch Hermann do this over his stomach when he chose. Now he’s stuck without the vision, betrayed by his own changing anatomy. Hermann takes advantage of this blindspot to spend more time and attention on Newt’s stomach, kissing along the underside. He’s not remotely subtle with the compliments he whispers into Newt’s skin. He never has been. Hermann’s dramatic in all the ways a romantic (and a Romantic) is expected to be, and Newt doesn’t dare tell him how obvious he is, just in case he stops.

There’s something arousing to Newt about being called beautiful, or having his parts called beautiful. The word had once represented something completely different, something foreign, but Newt understands how Hermann sees his body, and he trusts this assessment of himself as beautiful. It’s not meant with the wrong intention, but all of the right ones. Newt thinks Hermann is beautiful, too, and will sometimes tell him while kissing his knobby knees or feeling along his vertebrae. He used to tell him when he was a bit tipsy on cheap foreign wines. God, he misses being able to drink cheap foreign wines.

When Hermann takes him into his mouth, Newt exhales a sound of surprise. He scrambles to grab onto whatever he can, which ends up being a pillow with his right hand and the edge of the bed with his left. He could, if he wished, grab a handful of Hermann’s hair and direct him, fuck up into his mouth, but today he wants Hermann to take control, just a bit.

Sometimes Newt worries that he’s become this fragile thing, something that could break easily if he’s touched too tenderly. When he told Hermann about this fear, he laughed and said that Newt’s always been weak for tenderness, but his body is tricking him with an influx of hormones. With a smile, one of Hermann’s big smiles (the kind that crinkles the corners of his eyes) he reassured him that it’s all a trick of chemicals and Newt’s made of far stronger things than something that can fall apart with one touch of a finger.

The crux of it, though, the core of this issue, is that part of Newt wants to be taken apart with the touch of a finger. And it’s not because he’s weak, but because he’s strong. Instead, he’ll settle (it’s far better than settling) for a mouth on him, sucking and licking insistently. Newt’s breath is coming in sharp little huffs, punctuated by sweet grunts when something is particularly pleasant or the simple act of consistent pleasure is just enough- just on that edge of too much. Hermann, that veritable slut, moans around him all of his own accord. It’s not even a reaction to Newt or his sounds, not exactly. The fact that Hermann likes this act for the sake of it, with no pretense, is something Newt learned early on in their sexual relationship, and is not something he’s likely to let himself forget.

Finally, when Newt’s breathing nears a breaking point, nearly whiny in the pitch, Hermann pushes two fingers inside of him. The rhythm is not perfect, likely because it’s not an easy task to both suck and fuck someone at the same time, but the irregularity, the roughness of it, is exactly the sort of thing to push Newt over the edge. In fact, it’s the exact thing that does, and he arches on the bed, lets himself shake through the aftermath when that insistent mouth won’t leave him alone. It’s only after he’s swatted the back of Hermann’s head that he pulls away.

Hermann places a sloppy kiss on Newt’s inner thigh as he waits to catch his breath. Newt wants to take a few moments to be boneless, content and well cared for, and he has his moment before Hermann’s sliding his way up his body. There’s a whole new sort of prodding occurring then.

“Darling-” Hermann begins.

“Just give me a moment and sit back against the headboard, hmm?” Newt smiles over at him. Now that he’s popped rather noticeably, they have to think very carefully about positioning. Accounting for both Newt’s stomach and Hermann’s leg can be a tricky task, but they’ve managed well enough with the positions they have chosen to utilize.

Newt sits up carefully and looks appreciatively at Hermann as he moves into position. They have an excessive amount of pillows between the two of them currently; body pillows, throw pillows, one that’s allegedly designed specifically for cuddling with while pregnant. Hermann shifts to shed his briefs and white cotton t shirt.

“Your dick ready?” Newt asks, all crass words and charming smile. Hermann gives him a judgemental but lovesick look as he gives himself a few strokes.

“Please don’t be so vulgar, Newton.”

“You’re going to be fucking me in less than a minute, I think I’m allowed to be at least a little bit vulgar.” Newt lifts his arms over his head as he sheds his t shirt, aware this is a rather sweaty ordeal.

“Yes but-”

“Carrying. Your child.”

“You play that card a bit too much, Newton. It’s not as though I could have done it, you know I’d gladly have volunteered given the chance.”

“There’s a lot to unpack there, Herms.” Instead of doing the unpacking, Newt takes a few long moments to admire his partner. Hermann’s still more lean than not, and despite not being particularly tall (though taller than Newt), he has a lanky look to him. But he’s also put on what they refer to as sympathy weight, the hint of a belly from eating more. There’s a nesting instinct buried deep inside of Newt, but clearly not deep enough, that’s more than a little pleased to see this. He wants everyone to be as plump and happy as he is right now.

Rather than get sentimental on his need for everyone to be fat, Newt focuses on climbing into Hermann’s lap, facing away from him. Hermann usually prefers “love making” to be face to face, but he doesn’t seem to protest that they’re not doing that when Newt adjusts himself enough to sink down on his cock. The very opposite of protesting occurs, in fact, when soon enough Hermann’s hands are on Newt’s stomach, stroking and half gripping to hold on.

Newt gives him a few moments (because he hardly needs them himself) before he starts to roll his hips forward, rocking against Hermann. The pace he sets is slow, largely because it’s not as easy to move quickly. He used to say he was going to bounce on Hermann until he screamed, but that was on hold for some time. Hopefully Newt would recover to make Hermann scream in that way again. If not, there were still plenty of other ways to do so.

Hermann’s noises are guttural, grunts and groans from deep inside. They’re not pretty, Newt thinks, but he wants to hear them more and louder. He moves slower, draws out each sound he can and Hermann holds onto him for dear life itself. Newt realizes he’s biting his lip in concentration, idly toying with his clit with no particular end goal. With Hermann, he often comes at least three times, but that’s not the priority here. He’s not sure what the priority is- maybe Hermann’s awful yet beautiful noises or maybe it’s taking a long nap. Likely it’s a combination of both of those things.

“Babe,” Newt exhales. “Honey. What do you need?”

“Shh, kitten. Just let me enjoy for a moment, ah, a moment longer, hmm?”

“Mm, enjoying my body like this?” Newt asks, placing his hand over one of Hermann’s. “The fact that you’ve done this to me? By fucking me? Made me all full, all because of you, because you fuck me so good.”

And, of course, that’s enough to send Hermann over the edge. The sound is strangled, like he’s trying to hold back but can’t possibly for a moment longer. There’s a silence afterwards and everything feels still.

Then comes the sound of a soft chuckle from Newt and the awkward efforts of decoupling. Newt lies in the bed beside Hermann for a few moments, breathing hard. He rests his hand on his stomach, smugly too pleased with himself for reducing Hermann to the equivalent of jelly. Sexy jelly. When he feels they’ve both got their breath back, he half waddles to the bathroom and returns to the sight of Hermann readjusting their mountain of pillows.

There’s a pleasant blush on Hermann’s cheeks, the way there often is when Newt pushes his buttons in the right way. It was charming the first few times, but now that several years have passed, Newt thinks it’s possibly one of his favorite things about Hermann. The man might have the subconscious of a caveman, but Hermann still tries his very best to seem put together and like a gentleman when he can help it.

“Can we rest for a bit now?” Newt asks, yawning, as he climbs back into the bed.

“Of course, I never said you couldn’t rest. You’re the one who suggested that I perform oral sex on you.”

“Which you happily agreed to,” he notes. Newt settles into the pillows with a cartoonish exaggeration. 

“Well, I do want to do anything I can to help you in your condition.”

Newt doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he takes Hermann’s hand in his own and laces their fingers together. Before he closes his eyes, he catches sight of Hermann looking rather pleased as they rest their joined hands on Newt’s stomach.

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter @ newtguzzler, tumblr @ pendragoff


End file.
